


All Roads

by SunnyD_lite



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, tamingthemuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-28
Updated: 2010-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Season 4 Spike found the Gem of Amara. .. do you think HE researched that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Roads

**Author's Note:**

> Between Sn 3 and 4 Prompt: riptide  
> A/N: Thank you to my beta **spiralleds** for last minute assists! Of course all errors are mine. This is Spike's story, so British spelling is in effect. The muse didn't like this one. You almost got a story of a band who did Beach Boys/Billy Ocean mash ups. This? Well 100% Beach Boys free.  
> Warnings: I've been reading the Dark!Xander ficathon entries. Apparently I write what I read. This is vamps torturing vamps.

"And there they were, making calf-eyes at each other. Over the top, even for the pantomime, or American soaps. I tell you, it was pathetic. As the Slayer of Slayers, I've seen, and killed, a few of those annoying chits in my time, but NONE made me want to retch like that one. Always up to adding another notch to my belt. If that Gem does what's it's rumoured to do...Well Blondie will have a different kettle of fish to fry. Now, since we've come down to fucking PERU for your particular stripe of knowledge, do I have to ask again?"

Spike paused his pacing and stared at his audience. He'd finally tracked down an expert in vampiric mystic objects and managed to ask him some questions. Then he chained him up to get his full attention.

He continued to receive no reply.

"Marcus, I do believe Mr. Minutes-away-from-Dust here needs a brief refresher on the cost of silence. What is it with research types and tweed anyway? Everywhere you go, British ex-pat vamps!"

Spike stormed across the lime-stone warehouse to the corner he'd nicknamed the larder where the entrees were whimpering. He'd hoped this would be a short job, but had stocked up on supplies just in case. Sometimes these librarian vamps had surprising depths. Plus, denying the vamp blood, but letting him watch it drip straight from the vein? That never got old.

"Do you have any of his books? I know this type. It won't matter what we do to him, but if we hurt his books..." suggested Marcus, his voice in the tone that snooty butlers used when looking down on the guests.

"Whatever! Just get some answers! That is what you do, isn't it? I mean, torture is a good lark but not much point if there's no intel. Unless you're up for a spot of fun." His voice softened. "Dru used to love a good round of pin the billy stick through the Bobby. Got her all worked up and frisky."

Spike's shoulders slumped; then he straightened up and glared at the vampire hanging in chains.

"Get him screaming, I need some dinner music, and not that shite you keep playing." Spike shook his head. "Mozart! Nine Inch Nails, now that's music to torture by. I've got a couple of nine inch spikes if you need inspiration," he added conversationally as he played Ennie Meenie Minie Moe to choose dinner. Ending up with a red head who was sobbing, he groaned. Screams were one thing; sobbing over-salted the blood. He dropped into game face and took the brunette beside his discarded choice.

He pulled the squirming teen over to a wingback chair that was facing the action. Spike hauled the girl onto his lap, wrapping an arm securely around her waist as if he was a demented department store Santa.

"Now I could just kill ya, or you could do something for me, put me in a more charitable piece of mind. I'm feeling a mite frustrated by Tweedy's lack of chatter." He pulled the shivering body back snug against his burgeoning erection. All this planning and no pay off yet. "If you lend me a hand, I might let you live."

He loved that look of panic when the whites of their eyes seemed to burst forward. "If you've been a bad girl, you know what to do. If you've always been a good girl, time to improvise." Not sure if she understood what he said. He couldn't be arsed enough to speak Spanish, but bounced his hips, pushing the bulge in his jeans into her, to ensure she comprende-ed. He inhaled deeply: sweat, fear, and a hint of arousal. Oh, he'd chosen well. He turned her sideways across his legs. Both of her bound hands slowly moved towards his cock. He let them get less than an inch away then roughly grabbed the wrists. "See how quickly I can move? My teeth move even faster. If I'm not feeling good, you'll be feeling dead."

Her whimpers hit a higher register. He let go and sighed as the warmth of her palms soaked through his jeans. Humans were such hot water bottles, and the warehouse he'd currently taken over was a little on the chilly side. Surprising for Lima, but these old stone buildings had been well constructed. Kept the screams in and the sunlight out. He heard but disregarded the sound of knives being sharpened. Marcus had come recommended, the King of Torture they called him, and he loved his work. Might as well let the bloody expert earn his keep.

He let a come-fuck-me smile grow as dinner began tentatively brushing up and down his cock. A beginner, but doing a right enough job. Might as well give the virgin one last thrill. She added a squeeze; she was catching on quick.

"Mr. Bloody? Did you grab any of the subject's books when you nabbed him?"

He opened his eyes to see Marcus standing there. "Name's Spike. Look, you might be getting all the jollies you need by thrusting your pokers, but some of us just want to get our rocks off the old fashion way."

"I apologize, I was under the impression you wanted him to talk. I won't disturb you further. I'll just go back to my pokers."

The oily fake deference was killing his buzz. Had to focus on the job at hand, and not the hand job. "Oi, wait a moment! Not you, pet, you keep doing what you're doing; could even undo my fly if you want to live dangerously. Marcus, check the pile in that corner." He pointed away from the larder. "He got antsy when the minions began pawing through them. Seems attached to them, should work a right treat."

Marcus bowed, insolently mind you, but did head to the indicated area. Spike quickly turned his attention to more important matters. "Ya, just like that, pet, rub it a little. That's good."

Mozart still whispered in the background as Marcus began to pour lighter fluid on a pile of dusty tomes. He fanned a couple of the older looking ones open, for kindling. That sight drew out more noises of distress out of the old man than the pokers or holy water had.

That sound, combined with the inexperienced hands, pushed Spike over the edge. There was an indignant squawk as he covered his meal with jism. A lassitude flowed through him. He blinked and pulled her forward as if to give her a kiss. As she turned her head away he dove in to her jugular. He enjoyed starting dinner with dessert.

Pushing the body off his lap, he licked his lips catching every drop. He turned his attention back to centre stage and Marcus' activities.

"Good call, mate. I think he wants to tell us something. You can remove the gag now. Great use of his danglelies there." A bit of genital mutilation normally got answers right quick. This one had either been made of sterner stuff, or --- and here Spike snorted to himself ––– he wasn't that attached to them in the first place.

His current plaything put him in mind of the Watcher. He'd seen flashes of Ripper under the bespoken three piece suits, a touch of steel that had withstood a round with Angelus. Not many alive or undead could make that claim. Too bad Dru wasn't here to--No. He was his own vamp. He could make it without his dark princess. Once he had his Gem, well he'd be back on top of his game and they'd be together again.

But thoughts of the Watcher put him in mind of his last visit to Sunnyhell. That was one way to kill the afterglow. "Right then. We won't snuff the books, and you tell us where to find the Gem of Amara. Know you've been working on it. Not much point re-inventing the wheel when you're so handy like."

"Books." The word almost dribbled out his mouth.

"Yes, books. Books plus lighter fluid. And lookie here." Spike tucked himself in his pants, then pulled something out of his pocket.

"A Zippo, guaranteed to flame every time."

No comment.

"Bloody hell. Thought you were some type of genius. Do I have to connect the dots for you, mate? Dusty dry books plus lighter fluid plus Zippo equals? Bueller, Bueller, anyone?"

"No...Need the books. Locates the crypt."

A grin split his face. "Now we're getting somewhere. The Gem's in a crypt and the books will guide us there. Where's that crypt? Chop chop or I'll let Marcus use that cleaver he was sharpening."

Behind him, he heard his torturer sigh. The vamp was seriously getting on his nerves. He had allowed him too much latitude in deference to his talent. That would have to stop, especially if it didn't result in answers.

"Books."

"And now he's on instant replay. Fine for a Man U match, not enjoying it here."  
Spike began tossing the lighter from hand to hand. "I'm not certain you understand the gravity of the situation. First off, you've been caught fair and square and those chains have been magiked. Only two ways out of them, the first involves being picked up in a Dustbuster."

The classical music hit an especially loud section, grating on his nerves.

"Could you turn that bloody thing off! I'm working here." After sending a death glare at Marcus, he continued. "Now where was I? Oh yes. There is more than a Slayer, and your life, at risk here."

Spike began to pace in front of the hanging man, every now and then hitting him for emphasis. "With the fabled Gem of Amara, and its' powers of invulnerability, I'll finally be able to put Mr. Broody Pants out of his masochistic misery."

"Not having him turn all leather wearing and stealing my Dru again. Not bloody cricket, that. Not like he cared for her. Even without the soul, it was all about the Slayer. And with it? Is there anything more pathetic than a vamp trying to change his nature, not just for love but for a sodding Slayer?" He spat on the ground.

"Angel, both the mopey and leather versions were caught in a bloody riptide called Buffy. Imagine that, the Scourge of Europe laid low by a bird called BUFFY." He stood as if addressing a jury. "He knew what he was, what he wanted and then got tossed in the other direction when she batted her lashes. It was demeaning to be witness to that. Watching Mr. Hair Gel Nancy-boy following her around like a puppy was one thing. Add soul, delete sense of pride. But watching Angelus get dashed against those rocks?" Spike shook his head. "He needs to be put down, as a service to the family."  
"Is boring them to death a new technique? May I please light the books?"

Spike glared at the victim. Amazed that his glasses, without the glass, were still hanging from his one remaining ear. In fact, the fellow reminded him a bit of Dalton, the poor sap who had helped him save Dru and find the Judge. Too bad he got toasted in the first round of the Judge's feedings. This one was much more stubborn about sharing his knowledge. Guess it was time to destroy something he held dear. "Fine, light the books," Spike growled. If he didn't get results in the next ten minutes, Marcus would be the best torturer of any pile of dust around.

What was Marcus fiddling with? Safety matches? "Oh get out of the way." Spike brandished his Zippo. He was a step away from the pile of books, when the desired result occurred.

"Stop, please stop. I know the location and there's a secret map if you put together two of the books."

"And the Gem's there?"

"Definitely there."

"And you haven't gone for it yourself? I don't think so."

"I can't go there. It's in the mouth of hell."

"SUNNYDALE?"

In an odd way, it made sense. Go back to the scene of the crime. It's where he lost himself, best place to find himself again. No matter how hard he tried, he kept getting dragged back to Sunnydale. But this time he'd come out on top.


End file.
